The Drabble Project
by Invaderk
Summary: As the title says, I have embarked on a mission to create a complete drabble for each of my favorite characters. This is an archive.
1. Author's Note

**The Drabble Project**

I fully intend to do a drabble on each of my favorite characters. The drabbles will be published as normal stories but will also be archived in this nifty thingy for your easy access. I wanted to make a C2 for it, but apparently you can only make one and I already made one for Lupin (and I couldn't bring myself to delete it). Humph.

Anyway, some drabbles you can expect are (but are not limited to, due to my compulsive writing urges):

Harry

Ron

Hermione

Remus

Tonks

Snape

Ginny

Neville

Stay tuned!


	2. Harry Potter

A/N: This is the first I'll put in the _The Drabble Project_ archive, because it's Harry we're talking about.

Disclaimer: I own nothing... especially not Harry Potter

Happy Reading!

* * *

**A Very Harry Drabble**

I guess you could call me a heroic. I never knew it would turn out this way, or that I was born a marked man, but it was so, and I had to deal with it. I always had a thing for saving people or 'playing the hero' as Ron and Hermione have said. At first, I was in denial. Now, I can understand what they meant.

I don't know if I ever claimed that life wasn't fair, probably because I knew it wasn't, and I knew it couldn't be. Whoever said life was fair should be hanged, anyway; it's not nice to keep a little kid's hopes up only to crash them down with the statement that everyone hears at least once in their lives.

"It's not fair!"

"Yeah, well life's not fair so deal with it and bugger off."

It doesn't rain, but it pours.

I've always wanted to fit in like everyone else. Now, looking back upon the day I got my letter and even further back, it's easy to understand why I didn't fit in. Being different in those days was like having a contagious illness, one that is so terrible not even Healers want to come near you. Or, in my case for the first eleven or so years of my life, _doctors_. Doctors. Oh boy. Healers and doctors are really one in the same. They have the same basic principles, the same diplomas that they feel they need to hang on the walls, and the very same, world-famous quote that makes both women and men alike rather queasy.

"Turn your head and cough."

I shudder at the thought, I really do. Almost like I shudder when I dwell upon the war that changed everyone, especially me. I shudder as I remember the destruction of my own not-so-innocent innocence, and as I question myself just how, how, _how_ did the whole Weasley family manage to survive? I suppose Bill's wolf-like reflexes helped him, and Charlie's uncanny knowledge of all that dark stuff. Percy had the whole ministry protecting him, Fred and George were too funny to die, Ron was in love, and Ginny…

_Ginny_.

What do I say, and where do I start to say it? I remember how Dumbledore told me once that it was funny how being invisible made you nearsighted. I, however, was not only nearsighted, but farsighted, heresighted, theresighted, and everywheresighted. In all honesty, I did not, and cannot, truly explain what Ginny saw in me. Me, Harry Potter, with my knobby knees and out-of-control hair. I had nothing to me except for a famous name and a feat I couldn't remember. Maybe it was the fact that my eyes are as green as a, well, a 'fresh-picked toad' or that I had saved her life. Come to think of it, I've saved her life more than once. Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to sound proud, because she's saved me loads of time, too. Mentally, physically, the whole nine yards. After the war, I had a particularly hard time getting back into the swing of things. I could hardly look at my wand without remembering the dreadful deeds I had inflicted upon people with it. I mean, Death Eaters and even Voldemort were really supposed to die and whatever, but _killing is killing_. No? Anyway, Ginny, as well as the rest of the family that had taken me in as the black-haired Weasley, helped me to cope with myself and everything that I could now do.

I was free from the moment the war ended and the rest of the Death Eaters had been rounded up. I was _free_! It was really an amazing thing, now that I look back upon it. Only, at the time, I had a rather terrible commitment more important than relishing freedom. More important than knowing that I could now love and be loved without fear and doubt. My problem was that love itself was in critical condition at St. Mungo's.

Yes, Ginny. And this is where I talk about pacing back and fourth in front of the emergency room doors with the rest of the Weasleys and Hermione. They, too, were bearing the telltale signs of recent battle; cuts, bruises, heavy bleeding. And then the Healer came out of the room and took off his silly face mask and rung it in his hands like you might see on television. I knew at that moment that Ginny was dead for sure. There was no doubt about it. The Healer opened his mouth and I was sure that I was going to hear that one of the people I had fought to protect most was dying there in that horrible room with white walls…

Ginny was alive. Unconscious, but alive.

Instantly, the whole room seemed to have taken a huge breath and we fought to get inside that right room, knocking that Healer right onto the floor in the process. That was the last time I went to St. Mungo's for a long time. In fact, it was the last time I went to St. Mungo's until now, where I sit here with my quill and parchment, writing about nothing in particular as I impatiently wait. And wait. What am I waiting for? Well, I still have a bit of explaining to do first.

So, a month passed after the war. Then another. And one night, as I lay fitfully tossing and turning in the bed I had in Grimmauld Place, the door opened. I sat up instantly to see none other than Ginny Weasley standing in my doorway. Donned in pajama bottoms and a pink tanktop (I honestly can't say how I remember all of this), she asked if she could come in. Well, she was already in, so I laughed and motioned for her to step forward.

I'd like to take a moment to point out that I really hated living alone, as much as I liked to be by myself a lot of the time. A lot of the time my house was where order members, random redheaded Weasleys, and especially Lupin when he wasn't with Tonks, came to stay for a night or two. I wasn't accustomed to Ginny showing up in the middle of the night, however, and especially not wearing her pajamas. I sat up and motioned for her to sit down on the edge of my bed. She complied slowly, never taking her stunning eyes off mine. I couldn't help but notice the way her hair, set in curls from the day, well down her shoulders in a way so elegant I didn't think possible. She sat down and I saw a faint scar on her chest from the wound that had put her in St. Mungo's. Coincidentally (or maybe not), the scar was in the shape of a lightning bolt.

Ginny told me that she had been having a hard time sleeping and that her scar had been tingling again. This was not unusual, as the medication she was taking caused tingling in the healing area. I told her to join the club, since my scar had been known to tingle from time to time. Before I knew it, she was asking me personal questions about my feelings. I was never really one to talk about my feelings, but there I was. She asked me if I had ever considered getting back with her, and I said I had. In fact, it was the subject that had been keeping me awake. I didn't mention that, though; she already seemed somewhat uncomfortable.

And the next thing I knew, Ginny had somehow gotten over to where I sat and started kissing me. And before I knew it, I was kissing her back and we were, well, kissing. This was the beginning of Harry and Ginny part two: The Chest Creature Strikes Back.

When I woke up, Ginny was in my arms. Thankfully, we were both fully clothed, but she was still sound asleep, looking like something out of a dream. Like out of someone else's life…

Months passed. On the anniversary of the downfall of Voldemort, I proposed to Ginny Weasley. She burst into tears and started kissing me to the applause of everyone around, and I took that as a 'yes'.

And here I sit, a year and a half later, sitting only because Ron thought I might wear down the ground from pacing back and fourth so much. Ron had shoved this parchment and quill into my shaking hands and told me to write, and so I began this little biding of my time. Remus and Tonks, now married, are watching me with small smiles on their faces. Tonks' abdomen is round and full, which is not strange at all since she is due any day now. Ron and Hermione watch me as I write this, and I can't help but notice that Hermione's engagement ring is sending little pinpricks of reflected light onto the page, and it's driving me absolutely insane. My temper is short. I put the parchment own, then pick it back up. I can't think. I will finish this later.

The Healer came out of the little room and told me that I was now a father of a healthy little boy. I passed out on the spot and woke up a minute later from Remus fanning me with his newspaper. Ron and Mr. Weasley pulled me to my feet and shoved me through the door so that I could say hello to my wife and the new edition to my family. Upon entry, I almost passed out again, but one look at Ginny and I suddenly felt very much stable – she looked as if she had just run a marathon, only a more painful one. I officially had nothing to complain about. I gingerly took my seat next to the bed and kissed her, then looked into the bundle for the first time.

The emotions one feels when seeing their child for the first time are not those that can be explained, so I won't waste my breath trying to. It – he – had the trademark Weasley hair and my eyes. It was so strange, just sitting there, staring with a kind of ridiculous smile on my face. After a brief conversation, we decide on a name.

In just a few days, Ginny, Ronald Sirius Potter and me were home.

o-o-o

It's still amazing to look back on all of this, to take out this letter and squish this little tidbit at the very bottom of the paper. Little Ron, or Red as we call him so we don't get confused with the original Ron, is five years old. His best friend just happens to be little James Lupin, a metamorphmagus with wolf-like reflexes and a knack for trouble. The relationship between Ginny and me has not been without its ups and downs, but we still manage to pull through every time. Love has a funny way of doing that, you know.

o-o-o

_FIN_


	3. Ron Weasley

A/N: The infamous _Ron's Point of View_, which has the worst title ever. But hey, it fits in _The Drabble Project_ so it's staying.

Disclaimer: I own nothing... especially not Harry Potter

Happy Reading!

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**Ron's Point of View**

I guess you could say I was a little jealous, the way she ran to him when she was upset. The way she gave _him_ the kiss in our fourth year. The way she could hug him while only giving me, what? A handshake. She never seemed to notice how my eyes followed her every move, or the way I attempted to flirt with her. She was amazing in every way.

She was smart, brilliant, trustworthy, and noble – not to mention a little cocky at times, but I didn't mind. It was worth it just to see her smile when I did something stupid, or when I did something 'sweet' in her eyes. It was worth it just to see her at peace when she read in front of the fire on cold nights, wrapped up in a blanket, her feet tucked beneath her. I would watch her hungrily, never telling a soul how I felt. I was Ron Weasley, and she was something totally different. I was nervous, my grades weren't anything special, and I swore a lot – she was cool, confident, and just damn brilliant.

I didn't know what love felt like, so I couldn't say that I was in love. I figured when I was in love, I would know it, wouldn't I? Iknew I didn't have love with Lavender – for the most part, she annoyed the hell out of me; nothing more than a distraction from what I was trying to avoid. It's not about kissing and touching or even having sex; it's about her and me. I was just afraid it would never be the way I imagined. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was falling – and fast, at that.

I suppose you could say that it started in our fifth year – the love part, anyway; I think I'd liked her already. Before Harry arrived at Sirius' place, we would be stuck together for hours on end with nothing to do but enjoy each other's presence. We would clean together, and she would talk on end about random things: books, school, Harry, books, the Order, books… I wasn't really listening half the time. Mostly I was just staring and making comments such as, 'yeah' or 'uh huh'. The other half of the time, I would get into real conversations with her, and we would actually bond. It was kind of strange at first, but then it came naturally.

I remember one time we were cleaning in a rather disgusting room, and tripped over a huge book – I caught her. She smiled at me, and I melted. All I could do was stutter, and I felt pretty stupid. From then on, things sort of changed. She'd touch my arm, and I'd tingle all over. Sometimes I'd get the chills, and I think she noticed. One time, I think she might have touched my arse, but I acted like I didn't notice.

I thought that I would die when I held her in my arms for the first time – at the funeral. I was sad, I was crying, actually, but holding her was important to me. After that, things were different. I remember everything – it all seems to play in slow motion. I couldn't ever tell her how I felt; I was afraid of rejection, like I was afraid of spiders. No, never mind, I'm not afraid of spiders – I just don't like them. Anyway, I couldn't tell her how I felt, because love is a strong word, and I curse under my breath as I picture myself saying it; it just sounds so lame. Not like Ron at all.

I watch her now, at the reception of Fleur and Bill's wedding. She's standing there, looking like she's got something on her mind, and George approaches her. I can't hear them – I'm too far away, but I can see as he hold out his hand, she giggles and takes it. They begin to dance in a lively manner, and I feel blood rush to my face. Harry asks me why I'm scowling, but I just grumble about eating too much cake. Harry tells me I should ask her to dance, and I give him an awkward look. He tells me it's my choice, and then gets up to ask Ginny to dance. I know he's right – maybe I'll do it later, when she's by herself.

George has just parted ways with her, and I am shaking. I want to tell her how much I care, but I can't just walk up to her and tell her. However, I suppose asking her to dance is the right thing to do; after all, I owe her a dance or two. I get out of my chair and stumble slightly, my ears going red. I regain my composure and casually walk over to the punchbowl, pick up the ladle – no, I put it down again and shake my head. I can feel her eyes on my neck, and it sends a strange chill down my back. I look up and see her chatting with Harry and Ginny, but as Harry catches my eye, he pulls Ginny away and Hermione is alone again.

I am walking over to Hermione, and she sees me. I feel my face go scarlet as I ask her to dance, and he blushes. Then, to my surprise, she agrees.

I'm not much of a dancer; I step on her foot and she winces. I apologize, she tells me not to worry about it. I think of all the things I want to say; about my love for her, about how badly I wanted her – instead, I talk about small things, like Harry, or Fleur and Bill. She talks back, and I like to hear her voice. I am just one big chill; her hand is on my shoulder, and my hand is on her waist. We've never been in such close contact before. Our other hands are entwined together, and I know my palms are sweaty.

I want to say something, something smart, but all I can manage is to compliment her dress. She blushes again, her chocolate eyes on mine. I can't stand it anymore. Our faces are close, our foreheads are together; eyes upon each other. I tuck a loose strand of hair that has escaped from her bun behind her ear – a mere procrastination. I utter the words I want to speak the most very quietly, almost a whisper. Ashamed, I close my eyes, and prepare for the worst. To my surprise, I feel soft lips upon my own, I hear the reply I dreamed about coming from the mouth that had been on mine merely seconds before. I open my eyes and gape for a moment, unsure if I had heard correctly.

She giggles as I curse in disbelief, then as I apologize for cursing, and I can't help but smile. I kiss her, passionately, lovingly, with every emotion I have felt for her over the years, and she kisses me back.

And suddenly, without warning, I feel those sparks that I had wondered about before, felt the touch from the bookworm that I – Ronald Weasley – love with all of my soul. She tells me again, and we are wrapped in our own world, not even noticing the stares of the people, my mother smiling broadly, Harry clapping; my head is too full of a six year-built proclamation.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

o-o-o

_FIN_


	4. Hermione Granger

A/N: Hermione has arrived. I also must apologize for those who have me on Author Alert for bombarding you with emails.

Disclaimer: As usual, I own nothing... especially not Harry Potter

Happy Reading!

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**Leaving The Seat Up**

Hanging out with the other girls never really appealed to me. For some reason, listening to them complain about their hair and makeup did not ever seem all that important. I was much more focused on work, of course, and would rather curl up with a good book than go out and get wasted. Call me crazy, but I like being sober. Guys just seem like so much better friends; not even to date, just to be with, to hang out with. I was partially right in thinking this. The only problem with hanging out with guys is our subtle differences.

Harry and Ron could spend hours on end talking about things like Quidditch or things like that, though it never really bothered me. They would let me read without complaining, and never made me feel as if I should be conversing with them. Some might consider this insulting, but I know they know I like it better this way.

I have a tendency to be a little bit bossy sometimes, but they let me be, for the most part. I fix their essays, help them with their classroom crises, and they always thank me and show gratitude. They like how I can sit and listen to them talk when they have something to say, even if I don't agree with what is said. I can't say that I'm the most patient person in the world, but I give an effort. We treat each other with respect.

Well, kind of.

Sometimes I get exasperated. Sometimes they mock me. Sometimes we have blazing rows. Sometimes I want to hex them into the next century. Sometimes, they want to ring my neck. But most of the time, we're okay.

We learn from each other, we laugh together. Once or twice, we've cried together, but that doesn't happen often; if anyone cries, it's usually me. After all, I am the only girl.

We've cheered each other up in times of trial and suffering, wish each other luck in our personal endeavors, and help each other find solutions to our problems. They defend me when words or gestures come my way, and they know that they can fall back on me should need be. In a way, they act like my brothers. In a way, I know how Ginny feels.

Living with the two of them this summer has been hard, and sometimes frustrating. There is nothing I hate more than when they leave the toilet seat up in the bathroom, but the message doesn't seem to penetrate their heads when I tell them not to.

But all things considered, if leaving the seat up is the biggest problem I have, then I have to say that I've got it pretty good.

o-o-o

_FIN_


	5. Remus Lupin

A/N: Remus' drabble, at long last. Once again, sorry for the bombardment.

Disclaimer: I own nothing... especially not Harry Potter

Happy Reading!

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**Remus Lupin on Taming the Savage Beast **

When I was old enough to understand the danger that I was, I vowed never to let myself get involved with other people. Don't get me wrong, I loved people. I was fascinated with them and watched them live their happy lives through hungry eyes, always wanting but never receiving. I vowed never to get involved with people in order to protect them. Of course, as I was living my, well, not necessarily _happy_, but _safe_ life, three people came along and changed everything.

I grew up with them, and together we conquered many feats, from easy things like nicking food from the kitchens to harder things, like when they became animagi on my behalf. It was then that I was sure I had the best friends one could ever have. And then, one day, I lost them all in the span of mere hours. That, however, is a different story, one I do not wish to dwell upon at this time, or any time. The feelings I felt were too terrible for me to explain – worse than any transformation I had ever undergone.

Life did go on, even if I wasn't sure at first that it would. I was as happy as I could be with all the anti-werewolf legislation and hate crimes associated with it. I took up a job at Hogwarts, a job I had a dark feeling I wouldn't keep for long. I was right. The year was, however, not without events. I met the son of my best friend and a piece of my life was restored. Another of my friends proved himself innocent, and the other, guilty. My happiness was short lived, for other complications came my way.

And then there was Tonks. She regarded me with ease and the same friendly demeanor that she treated all others. In fact, she was one of the first women who could look at me and see someone other than a tragic beast, a poor man, whose life was full of, well, tragedy. If the circumstances had been different, I would have scooped her up in my arms and asked her to marry me, the happiest man alive. The circumstances didn't change, unfortunately, and I was forced to turn her down time and time again. It hurt her almost as much as it hurt me. I was sent underground and eventually all thoughts except for those of survival were forced from my mind. I would go hungry on the nights Greyback ordered us to kill for our food. It was on these nights, when I was cold, hungry and alone, that my thoughts drifted back to the Burrow, to food, and, most of all, to Tonks. I would think of her and smile and, if remembering that I could not have her did not make me feel worse, the thoughts would get me through to the next day.

It was on the death day of one the greatest wizards to live that my vow of anti-interaction with the human race was beat down so low that it no longer existed. I let my guard down and gave in. Of course, everyone ganging up on me didn't help my cause, but I am not regretful of my choice. Tonks and I have supported each other through the hardest of times, the best of times, and we will continue to support each other in times that still loom ahead in the unknown. All these people, may they be Lily, James, Sirius, Tonks, or even Peter, have all taken a part in taming the savage beast that was so long who I was, the warden of my life's prison. The prison I have escaped through them and by them.

Looking back upon all the good and happy times in my life, not matter who or what the situation contained, there was always one thing involved every single time. Albus was right again – I guess love was all I ever needed.

o-o-o

_FIN _


End file.
